The lady modestly hesitated to reply, lest there should be anyimpropriety in holding an interview with Mr. Bumble, with closeddoors. Mr. Bumble taking advantage of the hesitation, and beingvery cold himself, shut it without permission.

'Hard weather, Mr. Bumble,' said the matron.

'Hard, indeed, ma'am,' replied the beadle. 'Anti-porochialweather this, ma'am. We have given away, Mrs. Corney, we havegiven away a matter of twenty quartern loaves and a cheese and ahalf, this very blessed afternoon; and yet them paupers are notcontented.'

'Of course not. When would they be, Mr. Bumble?' said thematron, sipping her tea.

'When, indeed, ma'am!' rejoined Mr. Bumble. 'Why here's one manthat, in consideration of his wife and large family, has aquartern loaf and a good pound of cheese, full weight. Is hegrateful, ma'am? Is he grateful? Not a copper farthing's worthof it! What does he do, ma'am, but ask for a few coals; if it'sonly a pocket handkerchief full, he says! Coals! What would hedo with coals? Toast his cheese with 'em and then come back formore. That's the way with these people, ma'am; give 'em a apronfull of coals to-day, and they'll come back for another, the dayafter to-morrow, as brazen as alabaster.'

The matron expressed her entire concurrence in this intelligiblesimile; and the beadle went on.

'I never,' said Mr. Bumble, 'see anything like the pitch it's gotto. The day afore yesterday, a man--you have been a marriedwoman, ma'am, and I may mention it to you--a man, with hardly arag upon his back (here Mrs. Corney looked at the floor), goes toour overseer's door when he has got company coming to dinner; andsays, he must be relieved, Mrs. Corney. As he wouldn't go away,and shocked the company very much, our overseer sent him out apound of potatoes and half a pint of oatmeal. "My heart!" saysthe ungrateful villain, "what's the use of _this_ to me? You mightas well give me a pair of iron spectacles!" "Very good," saysour overseer, taking 'em away again, "you won't get anything elsehere." "Then I'll die in the streets!" says the vagrant. "Ohno, you won't," says our overseer.'

'Ha! ha! That was very good! So like Mr. Grannett, wasn't it?'interposed the matron. 'Well, Mr. Bumble?'

'Well, ma'am,' rejoined the beadle, 'he went away; and he _did_ diein the streets. There's a obstinate pauper for you!'

'It beats anything I could have believed,' observed the matronemphatically. 'But don't you think out-of-door relief a very badthing, any way, Mr. Bumble? You're a gentleman of experience,and ought to know. Come.'

'Mrs. Corney,' said the beadle, smiling as men smile who areconscious of superior information, 'out-of-door relief, properlymanaged: properly managed, ma'am: is the porochial safeguard. Thegreat principle of out-of-door relief is, to give the paupersexactly what they don't want; and then they get tired of coming.'

'Dear me!' exclaimed Mrs. Corney. 'Well, that is a good one,too!'

'Yes. Betwixt you and me, ma'am,' returned Mr. Bumble, 'that'sthe great principle; and that's the reason why, if you look atany cases that get into them owdacious newspapers, you'll alwaysobserve that sick families have been relieved with slices ofcheese. That's the rule now, Mrs. Corney, all over the country.But, however,' said the beadle, stopping to unpack his bundle,'these are official secrets, ma'am; not to be spoken of; except,as I may say, among the porochial officers, such as ourselves.This is the port wine, ma'am, that the board ordered for theinfirmary; real, fresh, genuine port wine; only out of the caskthis forenoon; clear as a bell, and no sediment!'

Having held the first bottle up to the light, and shaken it wellto test its excellence, Mr. Bumble placed them both on top of achest of drawers; folded the handkerchief in which they had beenwrapped; put it carefully in his pocket; and took up his hat, asif to go.

The matron looked, from the little kettle, to the beadle, who wasmoving towards the door; and as the beadle coughed, preparatoryto bidding her good-night, bashfully inquired whether--whether hewouldn't take a cup of tea?

Mr. Bumble instantaneously turned back his collar again; laid hishat and stick upon a chair; and drew another chair up to thetable. As he slowly seated himself, he looked at the lady. Shefixed her eyes upon the little teapot. Mr. Bumble coughed again,and slightly smiled.

Mrs. Corney rose to get another cup and saucer from the closet.As she sat down, her eyes once again encountered those of thegallant beadle; she coloured, and applied herself to the task ofmaking his tea. Again Mr. Bumble coughed--louder this time thanhe had coughed yet.

'Sweet? Mr. Bumble?' inquired the matron, taking up thesugar-basin.

'Very sweet, indeed, ma'am,' replied Mr. Bumble. He fixed hiseyes on Mrs. Corney as he said this; and if ever a beadle lookedtender, Mr. Bumble was that beadle at that moment.

The tea was made, and handed in silence. Mr. Bumble, havingspread a handkerchief over his knees to prevent the crumbs fromsullying the splendour of his shorts, began to eat and drink;varying these amusements, occasionally, by fetching a deep sigh;which, however, had no injurious effect upon his appetite, but,on the contrary, rather seemed to facilitate his operations inthe tea and toast department.

'You have a cat, ma'am, I see,' said Mr. Bumble, glancing at onewho, in the centre of her family, was basking before the fire;'and kittens too, I declare!'

'Mrs. Corney, ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble, slowly, and marking thetime with his teaspoon, 'I mean to say this, ma'am; that any cat,or kitten, that could live with you, ma'am, and _not_ be fond ofits home, must be a ass, ma'am.'

'Oh, Mr. Bumble!' remonstrated Mrs. Corney.

'It's of no use disguising facts, ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble, slowlyflourishing the teaspoon with a kind of amorous dignity whichmade him doubly impressive; 'I would drown it myself, withpleasure.'

'Then you're a cruel man,' said the matron vivaciously, as sheheld out her hand for the beadle's cup; 'and a very hard-heartedman besides.'

'Hard-hearted, ma'am?' said Mr. Bumble. 'Hard?' Mr. Bumbleresigned his cup without another word; squeezed Mrs. Corney'slittle finger as she took it; and inflicting two open-handedslaps upon his laced waistcoat, gave a mighty sigh, and hitchedhis chair a very little morsel farther from the fire.

It was a round table; and as Mrs. Corney and Mr. Bumble had beensitting opposite each other, with no great space between them,and fronting the fire, it will be seen that Mr. Bumble, inreceding from the fire, and still keeping at the table, increasedthe distance between himself and Mrs. Corney; which proceeding,some prudent readers will doubtless be disposed to admire, and toconsider an act of great heroism on Mr. Bumble's part: he beingin some sort tempted by time, place, and opportunity, to giveutterance to certain soft nothings, which however well they maybecome the lips of the light and thoughtless, do seemimmeasurably beneath the dignity of judges of the land, membersof parliament, ministers of state, lord mayors, and other greatpublic functionaries, but more particularly beneath thestateliness and gravity of a beadle: who (as is well known)should be the sternest and most inflexible among them all.

Whatever were Mr. Bumble's intentions, however (and no doubt theywere of the best): it unfortunately happened, as has been twicebefore remarked, that the table was a round one; consequently Mr.Bumble, moving his chair by little and little, soon began todiminish the distance between himself and the matron; and,continuing to travel round the outer edge of the circle, broughthis chair, in time, close to that in which the matron was seated.

Indeed, the two chairs touched; and when they did so, Mr. Bumblestopped.

Now, if the matron had moved her chair to the right, she wouldhave been scorched by the fire; and if to the left, she must havefallen into Mr. Bumble's arms; so (being a discreet matron, andno doubt foreseeing these consequences at a glance) she remainedwhere she was, and handed Mr. Bumble another cup of tea.

'Dear me!' exclaimed the matron, 'what a very curious questionfrom a single man. What can you want to know for, Mr. Bumble?'

The beadle drank his tea to the last drop; finished a piece oftoast; whisked the crumbs off his knees; wiped his lips; anddeliberately kissed the matron.

'Mr. Bumble!' cried that discreet lady in a whisper; for thefright was so great, that she had quite lost her voice, 'Mr.Bumble, I shall scream!' Mr. Bumble made no reply; but in a slowand dignified manner, put his arm round the matron's waist.

As the lady had stated her intention of screaming, of course shewould have screamed at this additional boldness, but that theexertion was rendered unnecessary by a hasty knocking at thedoor: which was no sooner heard, than Mr. Bumble darted, withmuch agility, to the wine bottles, and began dusting them withgreat violence: while the matron sharply demanded who was there.

It is worthy of remark, as a curious physical instance of theefficacy of a sudden surprise in counteracting the effects ofextreme fear, that her voice had quite recovered all its officialasperity.

'If you please, mistress,' said a withered old female pauper,hideously ugly: putting her head in at the door, 'Old Sally isa-going fast.'

'Well, what's that to me?' angrily demanded the matron. 'I can'tkeep her alive, can I?'

'No, no, mistress,' replied the old woman, 'nobody can; she's farbeyond the reach of help. I've seen a many people die; littlebabes and great strong men; and I know when death's a-coming,well enough. But she's troubled in her mind: and when the fitsare not on her,--and that's not often, for she is dying veryhard,--she says she has got something to tell, which you musthear. She'll never die quiet till you come, mistress.'

At this intelligence, the worthy Mrs. Corney muttered a varietyof invectives against old women who couldn't even die withoutpurposely annoying their betters; and, muffling herself in athick shawl which she hastily caught up, briefly requested Mr.Bumble to stay till she came back, lest anything particularshould occur. Bidding the messenger walk fast, and not be allnight hobbling up the stairs, she followed her from the room witha very ill grace, scolding all the way.

Mr. Bumble's conduct on being left to himself, was ratherinexplicable. He opened the closet, counted the teaspoons,weighed the sugar-tongs, closely inspected a silver milk-pot toascertain that it was of the genuine metal, and, having satisfiedhis curiosity on these points, put on his cocked hat corner-wise,and danced with much gravity four distinct times round the table.

Having gone through this very extraordinary performance, he tookoff the cocked hat again, and, spreading himself before the firewith his back towards it, seemed to be mentally engaged in takingan exact inventory of the furniture.

CHAPTER XXIV

TREATS ON A VERY POOR SUBJECT. BUT IS A SHORT ONE, AND MAY BEFOUND OF IMPORTANCE IN THIS HISTORY

It was no unfit messenger of death, who had disturbed the quietof the matron's room. Her body was bent by age; her limbstrembled with palsy; her face, distorted into a mumbling leer,resembled more the grotesque shaping of some wild pencil, thanthe work of Nature's hand.

Alas! How few of Nature's faces are left alone to gladden uswith their beauty! The cares, and sorrows, and hungerings, ofthe world, change them as they change hearts; and it is only whenthose passions sleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that thetroubled clouds pass off, and leave Heaven's surface clear. Itis a common thing for the countenances of the dead, even in thatfixed and rigid state, to subside into the long-forgottenexpression of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look ofearly life; so calm, so peaceful, do they grow again, that thosewho knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the coffin'sside in awe, and see the Angel even upon earth.

The old crone tottered along the passages, and up the stairs,muttering some indistinct answers to the chidings of hercompanion; being at length compelled to pause for breath, shegave the light into her hand, and remained behind to follow asshe might: while the more nimble superior made her way to theroom where the sick woman lay.

It was a bare garret-room, with a dim light burning at thefarther end. There was another old woman watching by the bed;the parish apothecary's apprentice was standing by the fire,making a toothpick out of a quill.

'Cold night, Mrs. Corney,' said this young gentleman, as thematron entered.

'Very cold, indeed, sir,' replied the mistress, in her most civiltones, and dropping a curtsey as she spoke.

'You should get better coals out of your contractors,' said theapothecary's deputy, breaking a lump on the top of the fire withthe rusty poker; 'these are not at all the sort of thing for acold night.'

'They're the board's choosing, sir,' returned the matron. 'Theleast they could do, would be to keep us pretty warm: for ourplaces are hard enough.'

The conversation was here interrupted by a moan from the sickwoman.

'Oh!' said the young mag, turning his face towards the bed, as ifhe had previously quite forgotten the patient, 'it's all U.P.there, Mrs. Corney.'

'It is, is it, sir?' asked the matron.

'If she lasts a couple of hours, I shall be surprised,' said theapothecary's apprentice, intent upon the toothpick's point.'It's a break-up of the system altogether. Is she dozing, oldlady?'

The attendant stooped over the bed, to ascertain; and nodded inthe affirmative.

'Then perhaps she'll go off in that way, if you don't make arow,' said the young man. 'Put the light on the floor. Shewon't see it there.'

The attendant did as she was told: shaking her head meanwhile,to intimate that the woman would not die so easily; having doneso, she resumed her seat by the side of the other nurse, who hadby this time returned. The mistress, with an expression ofimpatience, wrapped herself in her shawl, and sat at the foot ofthe bed.

The apothecary's apprentice, having completed the manufacture ofthe toothpick, planted himself in front of the fire and made gooduse of it for ten minutes or so: when apparently growing ratherdull, he wished Mrs. Corney joy of her job, and took himself offon tiptoe.

When they had sat in silence for some time, the two old womenrose from the bed, and crouching over the fire, held out theirwithered hands to catch the heat. The flame threw a ghastlylight on their shrivelled faces, and made their ugliness appearterrible, as, in this position, they began to converse in a lowvoice.

'Did she say any more, Anny dear, while I was gone?' inquired themessenger.

'Not a word,' replied the other. 'She plucked and tore at herarms for a little time; but I held her hands, and she soondropped off. She hasn't much strength in her, so I easily kepther quiet. I ain't so weak for an old woman, although I am onparish allowance; no, no!'

'Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was to have?'demanded the first.

'I tried to get it down,' rejoined the other. 'But her teethwere tight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was asmuch as I could do to get it back again. So I drank it; and itdid me good!'

Looking cautiously round, to ascertain that they were notoverheard, the two hags cowered nearer to the fire, and chuckledheartily.

'I mind the time,' said the first speaker, 'when she would havedone the same, and made rare fun of it afterwards.'

'Ay, that she would,' rejoined the other; 'she had a merry heart.'A many, many, beautiful corpses she laid out, as nice and neat aswaxwork. My old eyes have seen them--ay, and those old handstouched them too; for I have helped her, scores of times.'

Stretching forth her trembling fingers as she spoke, the oldcreature shook them exultingly before her face, and fumbling inher pocket, brought out an old time-discoloured tin snuff-box,from which she shook a few grains into the outstretched palm ofher companion, and a few more into her own. While they were thusemployed, the matron, who had been impatiently watching until thedying woman should awaken from her stupor, joined them by thefire, and sharply asked how long she was to wait?

'Not long, mistress,' replied the second woman, looking up intoher face. 'We have none of us long to wait for Death. Patience,patience! He'll be here soon enough for us all.'

'Hold your tongue, you doting idiot!' said the matron sternly.'You, Martha, tell me; has she been in this way before?'

'Often,' answered the first woman.

'But will never be again,' added the second one; 'that is, she'llnever wake again but once--and mind, mistress, that won't be forlong!'

'Long or short,' said the matron, snappishly, 'she won't find mehere when she does wake; take care, both of you, how you worry meagain for nothing. It's no part of my duty to see all the oldwomen in the house die, and I won't--that's more. Mind that, youimpudent old harridans. If you make a fool of me again, I'llsoon cure you, I warrant you!'

She was bouncing away, when a cry from the two women, who hadturned towards the bed, caused her to look round. The patienthad raised herself upright, and was stretching her arms towardsthem.

'Who's that?' she cried, in a hollow voice.

'Hush, hush!' said one of the women, stooping over her. 'Liedown, lie down!'

She clutched the matron by the arm, and forcing her into a chairby the bedside, was about to speak, when looking round, shecaught sight of the two old women bending forward in the attitudeof eager listeners.

'Turn them away,' said the woman, drowsily; 'make haste! makehaste!'

The two old crones, chiming in together, began pouring out manypiteous lamentations that the poor dear was too far gone to knowher best friends; and were uttering sundry protestations thatthey would never leave her, when the superior pushed them fromthe room, closed the door, and returned to the bedside. On beingexcluded, the old ladies changed their tone, and cried throughthe keyhole that old Sally was drunk; which, indeed, was notunlikely; since, in addition to a moderate dose of opiumprescribed by the apothecary, she was labouring under the effectsof a final taste of gin-and-water which had been privilyadministered, in the openness of their hearts, by the worthy oldladies themselves.

'Now listen to me,' said the dying woman aloud, as if making agreat effort to revive one latent spark of energy. 'In this veryroom--in this very bed--I once nursed a pretty young creetur',that was brought into the house with her feet cut and bruisedwith walking, and all soiled with dust and blood. She gave birthto a boy, and died. Let me think--what was the year again!'

'Never mind the year,' said the impatient auditor; 'what abouther?'

'Ay,' murmured the sick woman, relapsing into her former drowsystate, 'what about her?--what about--I know!' she cried, jumpingfiercely up: her face flushed, and her eyes starting from herhead--'I robbed her, so I did! She wasn't cold--I tell you shewasn't cold, when I stole it!'

'Stole what, for God's sake?' cried the matron, with a gesture asif she would call for help.

'_It_!' replied the woman, laying her hand over the other's mouth.'The only thing she had. She wanted clothes to keep her warm,and food to eat; but she had kept it safe, and had it in herbosom. It was gold, I tell you! Rich gold, that might havesaved her life!'

'Gold!' echoed the matron, bending eagerly over the woman as shefell back. 'Go on, go on--yes--what of it? Who was the mother?When was it?'

'She charge me to keep it safe,' replied the woman with a groan,'and trusted me as the only woman about her. I stole it in myheart when she first showed it me hanging round her neck; and thechild's death, perhaps, is on me besides! They would havetreated him better, if they had known it all!'

'Known what?' asked the other. 'Speak!'

'The boy grew so like his mother,' said the woman, rambling on,and not heeding the question, 'that I could never forget it whenI saw his face. Poor girl! poor girl! She was so young, too!Such a gentle lamb! Wait; there's more to tell. I have not toldyou all, have I?'

'No, no,' replied the matron, inclining her head to catch thewords, as they came more faintly from the dying woman. 'Bequick, or it may be too late!'

'The mother,' said the woman, making a more violent effort thanbefore; 'the mother, when the pains of death first came upon her,whispered in my ear that if her baby was born alive, and thrived,the day might come when it would not feel so much disgraced tohear its poor young mother named. "And oh, kind Heaven!" shesaid, folding her thin hands together, "whether it be boy orgirl, raise up some friends for it in this troubled world, andtake pity upon a lonely desolate child, abandoned to its mercy!"'

She was bending eagerly over the woman to hear her reply; butdrew back, instinctively, as she once again rose, slowly andstiffly, into a sitting posture; then, clutching the coverlidwith both hands, muttered some indistinct sounds in her throat,and fell lifeless on the bed.

* * * * * * *

'Stone dead!' said one of the old women, hurrying in as soon asthe door was opened.

The two crones, to all appearance, too busily occupied in thepreparations for their dreadful duties to make any reply, wereleft alone, hovering about the body.

CHAPTER XXV

WHEREIN THIS HISTORY REVERTS TO MR. FAGIN AND COMPANY

While these things were passing in the country workhouse, Mr.Fagin sat in the old den--the same from which Oliver had beenremoved by the girl--brooding over a dull, smoky fire. He held apair of bellows upon his knee, with which he had apparently beenendeavouring to rouse it into more cheerful action; but he hadfallen into deep thought; and with his arms folded on them, andhis chin resting on his thumbs, fixed his eyes, abstractedly, onthe rusty bars.

At a table behind him sat the Artful Dodger, Master CharlesBates, and Mr. Chitling: all intent upon a game of whist; theArtful taking dummy against Master Bates and Mr. Chitling. Thecountenance of the first-named gentleman, peculiarly intelligentat all times, acquired great additional interest from his closeobservance of the game, and his attentive perusal of Mr.Chitling's hand; upon which, from time to time, as occasionserved, he bestowed a variety of earnest glances: wiselyregulating his own play by the result of his observations uponhis neighbour's cards. It being a cold night, the Dodger worehis hat, as, indeed, was often his custom within doors. He alsosustained a clay pipe between his teeth, which he only removedfor a brief space when he deemed it necessary to apply forrefreshment to a quart pot upon the table, which stood readyfilled with gin-and-water for the accommodation of the company.

Master Bates was also attentive to the play; but being of a moreexcitable nature than his accomplished friend, it was observablethat he more frequently applied himself to the gin-and-water, andmoreover indulged in many jests and irrelevant remarks, allhighly unbecoming a scientific rubber. Indeed, the Artful,presuming upon their close attachment, more than once tookoccasion to reason gravely with his companion upon theseimproprieties; all of which remonstrances, Master Bates receivedin extremely good part; merely requesting his friend to be'blowed,' or to insert his head in a sack, or replying with someother neatly-turned witticism of a similar kind, the happyapplication of which, excited considerable admiration in the mindof Mr. Chitling. It was remarkable that the latter gentleman andhis partner invariably lost; and that the circumstance, so farfrom angering Master Bates, appeared to afford him the highestamusement, inasmuch as he laughed most uproariously at the end ofevery deal, and protested that he had never seen such a jollygame in all his born days.

'That's two doubles and the rub,' said Mr. Chitling, with a verylong face, as he drew half-a-crown from his waistcoat-pocket. 'Inever see such a feller as you, Jack; you win everything. Evenwhen we've good cards, Charley and I can't make nothing of 'em.'

Either the master or the manner of this remark, which was madevery ruefully, delighted Charley Bates so much, that hisconsequent shout of laughter roused the Jew from his reverie, andinduced him to inquire what was the matter.

'Matter, Fagin!' cried Charley. 'I wish you had watched theplay. Tommy Chitling hasn't won a point; and I went partnerswith him against the Artfull and dumb.'

'Ay, ay!' said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficientlydemonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the reason.'Try 'em again, Tom; try 'em again.'

'No more of it for me, thank 'ee, Fagin,' replied Mr. Chitling;'I've had enough. That 'ere Dodger has such a run of luck thatthere's no standing again' him.'

'Ha! ha! my dear,' replied the Jew, 'you must get up very earlyin the morning, to win against the Dodger.'

'Morning!' said Charley Bates; 'you must put your boots onover-night, and have a telescope at each eye, and a opera-glassbetween your shoulders, if you want to come over him.'

Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with muchphilosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman in company, for thefirst picture-card, at a shilling at a time. Nobody acceptingthe challenge, and his pipe being by this time smoked out, heproceeded to amuse himself by sketching a ground-plan of Newgateon the table with the piece of chalk which had served him in lieuof counters; whistling, meantime, with peculiar shrillness.

'How precious dull you are, Tommy!' said the Dodger, stoppingshort when there had been a long silence; and addressing Mr.Chitling. 'What do you think he's thinking of, Fagin?'

'How should I know, my dear?' replied the Jew, looking round ashe plied the bellows. 'About his losses, maybe; or the littleretirement in the country that he's just left, eh? Ha! ha! Isthat it, my dear?'

'Not a bit of it,' replied the Dodger, stopping the subject ofdiscourse as Mr. Chitling was about to reply. 'What do _you_ say,Charley?'

'_I_ should say,' replied Master Bates, with a grin, 'that he wasuncommon sweet upon Betsy. See how he's a-blushing! Oh, my eye!here's a merry-go-rounder! Tommy Chitling's in love! Oh, Fagin,Fagin! what a spree!'

Thoroughly overpowered with the notion of Mr. Chitling being thevictim of the tender passion, Master Bates threw himself back inhis chair with such violence, that he lost his balance, andpitched over upon the floor; where (the accident abating nothingof his merriment) he lay at full length until his laugh was over,when he resumed his former position, and began another laugh.

'No more it is,' replied the Jew; 'Charley will talk. Don't mindhim, my dear; don't mind him. Betsy's a fine girl. Do as shebids you, Tom, and you will make your fortune.'

'So I _do_ do as she bids me,' replied Mr. Chitling; 'I shouldn'thave been milled, if it hadn't been for her advice. But itturned out a good job for you; didn't it, Fagin! And what's sixweeks of it? It must come, some time or another, and why not inthe winter time when you don't want to go out a-walking so much;eh, Fagin?'

'Ah, to be sure, my dear,' replied the Jew.

'You wouldn't mind it again, Tom, would you,' asked the Dodger,winking upon Charley and the Jew, 'if Bet was all right?'

'I mean to say that I shouldn't,' replied Tom, angrily. 'There,now. Ah! Who'll say as much as that, I should like to know; eh,Fagin?'

'Nobody, my dear,' replied the Jew; 'not a soul, Tom. I don'tknow one of 'em that would do it besides you; not one of 'em, mydear.'

The Jew, perceiving that Mr. Chitling was considerably roused,hastened to assure him that nobody was laughing; and to prove thegravity of the company, appealed to Master Bates, the principaloffender. But, unfortunately, Charley, in opening his mouth toreply that he was never more serious in his life, was unable toprevent the escape of such a violent roar, that the abused Mr.Chitling, without any preliminary ceremonies, rushed across theroom and aimed a blow at the offender; who, being skilful inevading pursuit, ducked to avoid it, and chose his time so wellthat it lighted on the chest of the merry old gentleman, andcaused him to stagger to the wall, where he stood panting forbreath, while Mr. Chitling looked on in intense dismay.

'Hark!' cried the Dodger at this moment, 'I heard the tinkler.'Catching up the light, he crept softly upstairs.

The bell was rung again, with some impatience, while the partywere in darkness. After a short pause, the Dodger reappeared,and whispered Fagin mysteriously.

'What!' cried the Jew, 'alone?'

The Dodger nodded in the affirmative, and, shading the flame ofthe candle with his hand, gave Charley Bates a privateintimation, in dumb show, that he had better not be funny justthen. Having performed this friendly office, he fixed his eyeson the Jew's face, and awaited his directions.

The old man bit his yellow fingers, and meditated for someseconds; his face working with agitation the while, as if hedreaded something, and feared to know the worst. At length heraised his head.

'Where is he?' he asked.

The Dodger pointed to the floor above, and made a gesture, as ifto leave the room.

This brief direction to Charley Bates, and his recent antagonist,was softly and immediately obeyed. There was no sound of theirwhereabout, when the Dodger descended the stairs, bearing thelight in his hand, and followed by a man in a coarse smock-frock;who, after casting a hurried glance round the room, pulled off alarge wrapper which had concealed the lower portion of his face,and disclosed: all haggard, unwashed, and unshorn: the featuresof flash Toby Crackit.

'How are you, Faguey?' said this worthy, nodding to the Jew. 'Popthat shawl away in my castor, Dodger, so that I may know where tofind it when I cut; that's the time of day! You'll be a fineyoung cracksman afore the old file now.'

With these words he pulled up the smock-frock; and, winding itround his middle, drew a chair to the fire, and placed his feetupon the hob.

'See there, Faguey,' he said, pointing disconsolately to his topboots; 'not a drop of Day and Martin since you know when; not abubble of blacking, by Jove! But don't look at me in that way,man. All in good time. I can't talk about business till I'veeat and drank; so produce the sustainance, and let's have a quietfill-out for the first time these three days!'

The Jew motioned to the Dodger to place what eatables there were,upon the table; and, seating himself opposite the housebreaker,waited his leisure.

To judge from appearances, Toby was by no means in a hurry toopen the conversation. At first, the Jew contented himself withpatiently watching his countenance, as if to gain from itsexpression some clue to the intelligence he brought; but in vain.

He looked tired and worn, but there was the same complacentrepose upon his features that they always wore: and throughdirt, and beard, and whisker, there still shone, unimpaired, theself-satisfied smirk of flash Toby Crackit. Then the Jew, in anagony of impatience, watched every morsel he put into his mouth;pacing up and down the room, meanwhile, in irrepressibleexcitement. It was all of no use. Toby continued to eat withthe utmost outward indifference, until he could eat no more;then, ordering the Dodger out, he closed the door, mixed a glassof spirits and water, and composed himself for talking.

'First and foremost, Faguey,' said Toby.

'Yes, yes!' interposed the Jew, drawing up his chair.

Mr. Crackit stopped to take a draught of spirits and water, andto declare that the gin was excellent; then placing his feetagainst the low mantelpiece, so as to bring his boots to aboutthe level of his eye, he quietly resumed.

'First and foremost, Faguey,' said the housebreaker, 'how'sBill?'

'What!' screamed the Jew, starting from his seat.

'Why, you don't mean to say--' began Toby, turning pale.

'Mean!' cried the Jew, stamping furiously on the ground. 'Whereare they? Sikes and the boy! Where are they? Where have theybeen? Where are they hiding? Why have they not been here?'

'They fired and hit the boy. We cut over the fields at the back,with him between us--straight as the crow flies--through hedgeand ditch. They gave chase. Damme! the whole country was awake,and the dogs upon us.'

'The boy!'

'Bill had him on his back, and scudded like the wind. We stoppedto take him between us; his head hung down, and he was cold.They were close upon our heels; every man for himself, and eachfrom the gallows! We parted company, and left the youngsterlying in a ditch. Alive or dead, that's all I know about him.'

The Jew stopped to hear no more; but uttering a loud yell, andtwining his hands in his hair, rushed from the room, and from thehouse.

CHAPTER XXVI

IN WHICH A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER APPEARS UPON THE SCENE; AND MANYTHINGS, INSEPARABLE FROM THIS HISTORY, ARE DONE AND PERFORMED

The old man had gained the street corner, before he began torecover the effect of Toby Crackit's intelligence. He hadrelaxed nothing of his unusual speed; but was still pressingonward, in the same wild and disordered manner, when the suddendashing past of a carriage: and a boisterous cry from the footpassengers, who saw his danger: drove him back upon thepavement. Avoiding, as much as was possible, all the mainstreets, and skulking only through the by-ways and alleys, he atlength emerged on Snow Hill. Here he walked even faster thanbefore; nor did he linger until he had again turned into a court;when, as if conscious that he was now in his proper element, hefell into his usual shuffling pace, and seemed to breathe morefreely.

Near to the spot on which Snow Hill and Holborn Hill meet, opens,upon the right hand as you come out of the City, a narrow anddismal alley, leading to Saffron Hill. In its filthy shops areexposed for sale huge bunches of second-hand silk handkerchiefs,of all sizes and patterns; for here reside the traders whopurchase them from pick-pockets. Hundreds of these handkerchiefshang dangling from pegs outside the windows or flaunting from thedoor-posts; and the shelves, within, are piled with them.Confined as the limits of Field Lane are, it has its barber, itscoffee-shop, its beer-shop, and its fried-fish warehouse. It isa commercial colony of itself: the emporium of petty larceny:visited at early morning, and setting-in of dusk, by silentmerchants, who traffic in dark back-parlours, and who go asstrangely as they come. Here, the clothesman, the shoe-vamper,and the rag-merchant, display their goods, as sign-boards to thepetty thief; here, stores of old iron and bones, and heaps ofmildewy fragments of woollen-stuff and linen, rust and rot in thegrimy cellars.

It was into this place that the Jew turned. He was well known tothe sallow denizens of the lane; for such of them as were on thelook-out to buy or sell, nodded, familiarly, as he passed along.He replied to their salutations in the same way; but bestowed nocloser recognition until he reached the further end of the alley;when he stopped, to address a salesman of small stature, who hadsqueezed as much of his person into a child's chair as the chairwould hold, and was smoking a pipe at his warehouse door.

'Why, the sight of you, Mr. Fagin, would cure the hoptalmy!'said this respectable trader, in acknowledgment of the Jew'sinquiry after his health.

'The neighbourhood was a little too hot, Lively,' said Fagin,elevating his eyebrows, and crossing his hands upon hisshoulders.

'Well, I've heerd that complaint of it, once or twice before,'replied the trader; 'but it soon cools down again; don't you findit so?'

Fagin nodded in the affirmative. Pointing in the direction ofSaffron Hill, he inquired whether any one was up yonder to-night.

'Sikes is not, I suppose?' inquired the Jew, with a disappointedcountenance.

'_Non istwentus_, as the lawyers say,' replied the little man,shaking his head, and looking amazingly sly. 'Have you gotanything in my line to-night?'

'Nothing to-night,' said the Jew, turning away.

'Are you going up to the Cripples, Fagin?' cried the little man,calling after him. 'Stop! I don't mind if I have a drop therewith you!'

But as the Jew, looking back, waved his hand to intimate that hepreferred being alone; and, moreover, as the little man could notvery easily disengage himself from the chair; the sign of theCripples was, for a time, bereft of the advantage of Mr. Lively'spresence. By the time he had got upon his legs, the Jew haddisappeared; so Mr. Lively, after ineffectually standing ontiptoe, in the hope of catching sight of him, again forcedhimself into the little chair, and, exchanging a shake of thehead with a lady in the opposite shop, in which doubt andmistrust were plainly mingled, resumed his pipe with a gravedemeanour.

The Three Cripples, or rather the Cripples; which was the sign bywhich the establishment was familiarly known to its patrons: wasthe public-house in which Mr. Sikes and his dog have alreadyfigured. Merely making a sign to a man at the bar, Fagin walkedstraight upstairs, and opening the door of a room, and softlyinsinuating himself into the chamber, looked anxiously about:shading his eyes with his hand, as if in search of someparticular person.

The room was illuminated by two gas-lights; the glare of whichwas prevented by the barred shutters, and closely-drawn curtainsof faded red, from being visible outside. The ceiling wasblackened, to prevent its colour from being injured by theflaring of the lamps; and the place was so full of dense tobaccosmoke, that at first it was scarcely possible to discern anythingmore. By degrees, however, as some of it cleared away throughthe open door, an assemblage of heads, as confused as the noisesthat greeted the ear, might be made out; and as the eye grew moreaccustomed to the scene, the spectator gradually became aware ofthe presence of a numerous company, male and female, crowdedround a long table: at the upper end of which, sat a chairmanwith a hammer of office in his hand; while a professionalgentleman with a bluish nose, and his face tied up for thebenefit of a toothache, presided at a jingling piano in a remotecorner.

As Fagin stepped softly in, the professional gentleman, runningover the keys by way of prelude, occasioned a general cry oforder for a song; which having subsided, a young lady proceededto entertain the company with a ballad in four verses, betweeneach of which the accompanyist played the melody all through, asloud as he could. When this was over, the chairman gave asentiment, after which, the professional gentleman on thechairman's right and left volunteered a duet, and sang it, withgreat applause.

It was curious to observe some faces which stood out prominentlyfrom among the group. There was the chairman himself, (thelandlord of the house,) a coarse, rough, heavy built fellow, who,while the songs were proceeding, rolled his eyes hither andthither, and, seeming to give himself up to joviality, had an eyefor everything that was done, and an ear for everything that wassaid--and sharp ones, too. Near him were the singers:receiving, with professional indifference, the compliments of thecompany, and applying themselves, in turn, to a dozen profferedglasses of spirits and water, tendered by their more boisterousadmirers; whose countenances, expressive of almost every vice inalmost every grade, irresistibly attracted the attention, bytheir very repulsiveness. Cunning, ferocity, and drunkeness inall its stages, were there, in their strongest aspect; and women:some with the last lingering tinge of their early freshnessalmost fading as you looked: others with every mark and stamp oftheir sex utterly beaten out, and presenting but one loathsomeblank of profligacy and crime; some mere girls, others but youngwomen, and none past the prime of life; formed the darkest andsaddest portion of this dreary picture.

Fagin, troubled by no grave emotions, looked eagerly from face toface while these proceedings were in progress; but apparentlywithout meeting that of which he was in search. Succeeding, atlength, in catching the eye of the man who occupied the chair, hebeckoned to him slightly, and left the room, as quietly as he hadentered it.

'What can I do for you, Mr. Fagin?' inquired the man, as hefollowed him out to the landing. 'Won't you join us? They'll bedelighted, every one of 'em.'

The Jew shook his head impatiently, and said in a whisper, 'Is _he_here?'

'No,' replied the man.

'And no news of Barney?' inquired Fagin.

'None,' replied the landlord of the Cripples; for it was he. 'Hewon't stir till it's all safe. Depend on it, they're on thescent down there; and that if he moved, he'd blow upon the thingat once. He's all right enough, Barney is, else I should haveheard of him. I'll pound it, that Barney's managing properly.Let him alone for that.'

'Will _he_ be here to-night?' asked the Jew, laying the sameemphasis on the pronoun as before.

'Monks, do you mean?' inquired the landlord, hesitating.

'Hush!' said the Jew. 'Yes.'

'Certain,' replied the man, drawing a gold watch from his fob; 'Iexpected him here before now. If you'll wait ten minutes, he'llbe--'

'No, no,' said the Jew, hastily; as though, however desirous hemight be to see the person in question, he was neverthelessrelieved by his absence. 'Tell him I came here to see him; andthat he must come to me to-night. No, say to-morrow. As he isnot here, to-morrow will be time enough.'

'Good!' said the man. 'Nothing more?'

'Not a word now,' said the Jew, descending the stairs.

'I say,' said the other, looking over the rails, and speaking ina hoarse whisper; 'what a time this would be for a sell! I'vegot Phil Barker here: so drunk, that a boy might take him!'

'Ah! But it's not Phil Barker's time,' said the Jew, looking up.

'Phil has something more to do, before we can afford to part withhim; so go back to the company, my dear, and tell them to leadmerry lives--_while they last_. Ha! ha! ha!'

The landlord reciprocated the old man's laugh; and returned tohis guests. The Jew was no sooner alone, than his countenanceresumed its former expression of anxiety and thought. After abrief reflection, he called a hack-cabriolet, and bade the mandrive towards Bethnal Green. He dismissed him within some quarterof a mile of Mr. Sikes's residence, and performed the shortremainder of the distance, on foot.

'Now,' muttered the Jew, as he knocked at the door, 'if there isany deep play here, I shall have it out of you, my girl, cunningas you are.'

She was in her room, the woman said. Fagin crept softlyupstairs, and entered it without any previous ceremony. The girlwas alone; lying with her head upon the table, and her hairstraggling over it.

'She has been drinking,' thought the Jew, cooly, 'or perhaps sheis only miserable.'

The old man turned to close the door, as he made this reflection;the noise thus occasioned, roused the girl. She eyed his craftyface narrowly, as she inquired to his recital of Toby Crackit'sstory. When it was concluded, she sank into her former attitude,but spoke not a word. She pushed the candle impatiently away;and once or twice as she feverishly changed her position,shuffled her feet upon the ground; but this was all.

During the silence, the Jew looked restlessly about the room, asif to assure himself that there were no appearances of Sikeshaving covertly returned. Apparently satisfied with hisinspection, he coughed twice or thrice, and made as many effortsto open a conversation; but the girl heeded him no more than ifhe had been made of stone. At length he made another attempt;and rubbing his hands together, said, in his most conciliatorytone,

'And where should you think Bill was now, my dear?'

The girl moaned out some half intelligible reply, that she couldnot tell; and seemed, from the smothered noise that escaped her,to be crying.

'And the boy, too,' said the Jew, straining his eyes to catch aglimpse of her face. 'Poor leetle child! Left in a ditch,Nance; only think!'

'The child,' said the girl, suddenly looking up, 'is better wherehe is, than among us; and if no harm comes to Bill from it, Ihope he lies dead in the ditch and that his young bones may rotthere.'

'What!' cried the Jew, in amazement.

'Ay, I do,' returned the girl, meeting his gaze. 'I shall beglad to have him away from my eyes, and to know that the worst isover. I can't bear to have him about me. The sight of him turnsme against myself, and all of you.'

'Change it!' exclaimed the Jew, exasperated beyond all bounds byhis companion's unexpected obstinacy, and the vexation of thenight, 'I _will_ change it! Listen to me, you drab. Listen to me,who with six words, can strangle Sikes as surely as if I had hisbull's throat between my fingers now. If he comes back, andleaves the boy behind him; if he gets off free, and dead oralive, fails to restore him to me; murder him yourself if youwould have him escape Jack Ketch. And do it the moment he setsfoot in this room, or mind me, it will be too late!'

'What is all this?' cried the girl involuntarily.

'What is it?' pursued Fagin, mad with rage. 'When the boy'sworth hundreds of pounds to me, am I to lose what chance threw mein the way of getting safely, through the whims of a drunken gangthat I could whistle away the lives of! And me bound, too, to aborn devil that only wants the will, and has the power to, to--'

Panting for breath, the old man stammered for a word; and in thatinstant checked the torrent of his wrath, and changed his wholedemeanour. A moment before, his clenched hands had grasped theair; his eyes had dilated; and his face grown livid with passion;but now, he shrunk into a chair, and, cowering together, trembledwith the apprehension of having himself disclosed some hiddenvillainy. After a short silence, he ventured to look round athis companion. He appeared somewhat reassured, on beholding herin the same listless attitude from which he had first roused her.

'Don't worry me now, Fagin!' replied the girl, raising her headlanguidly. 'If Bill has not done it this time, he will another.He has done many a good job for you, and will do many more whenhe can; and when he can't he won't; so no more about that.'

'The boy must take his chance with the rest,' interrupted Nancy,hastily; 'and I say again, I hope he is dead, and out of harm'sway, and out of yours,--that is, if Bill comes to no harm. Andif Toby got clear off, Bill's pretty sure to be safe; for Bill'sworth two of Toby any time.'

'And about what I was saying, my dear?' observed the Jew, keepinghis glistening eye steadily upon her.

'Your must say it all over again, if it's anything you want me todo,' rejoined Nancy; 'and if it is, you had better wait tillto-morrow. You put me up for a minute; but now I'm stupidagain.'

Fagin put several other questions: all with the same drift ofascertaining whether the girl had profited by his unguardedhints; but, she answered them so readily, and was withal soutterly unmoved by his searching looks, that his originalimpression of her being more than a trifle in liquor, wasconfirmed. Nancy, indeed, was not exempt from a failing whichwas very common among the Jew's female pupils; and in which, intheir tenderer years, they were rather encouraged than checked.Her disordered appearance, and a wholesale perfume of Genevawhich pervaded the apartment, afforded strong confirmatoryevidence of the justice of the Jew's supposition; and when, afterindulging in the temporary display of violence above described,she subsided, first into dullness, and afterwards into a compoundof feelings: under the influence of which she shed tears oneminute, and in the next gave utterance to various exclamations of'Never say die!' and divers calculations as to what might be theamount of the odds so long as a lady or gentleman was happy, Mr.Fagin, who had had considerable experience of such matters in histime, saw, with great satisfaction, that she was very far goneindeed.

Having eased his mind by this discovery; and having accomplishedhis twofold object of imparting to the girl what he had, thatnight, heard, and of ascertaining, with his own eyes, that Sikeshad not returned, Mr. Fagin again turned his face homeward:leaving his young friend asleep, with her head upon the table.

It was within an hour of midnight. The weather being dark, andpiercing cold, he had no great temptation to loiter. The sharpwind that scoured the streets, seemed to have cleared them ofpassengers, as of dust and mud, for few people were abroad, andthey were to all appearance hastening fast home. It blew from theright quarter for the Jew, however, and straight before it hewent: trembling, and shivering, as every fresh gust drove himrudely on his way.

He had reached the corner of his own street, and was alreadyfumbling in his pocket for the door-key, when a dark figureemerged from a projecting entrance which lay in deep shadow, and,crossing the road, glided up to him unperceived.

'Fagin!' whispered a voice close to his ear.

'Ah!' said the Jew, turning quickly round, 'is that--'

'Yes!' interrupted the stranger. 'I have been lingering herethese two hours. Where the devil have you been?'

'On your business, my dear,' replied the Jew, glancing uneasilyat his companion, and slackening his pace as he spoke. 'On yourbusiness all night.'

'Oh, of course!' said the stranger, with a sneer. 'Well; andwhat's come of it?'

'Nothing good,' said the Jew.

'Nothing bad, I hope?' said the stranger, stopping short, andturning a startled look on his companion.

The Jew shook his head, and was about to reply, when thestranger, interrupting him, motioned to the house, before whichthey had by this time arrived: remarking, that he had better saywhat he had got to say, under cover: for his blood was chilledwith standing about so long, and the wind blew through him.

Fagin looked as if he could have willingly excused himself fromtaking home a visitor at that unseasonable hour; and, indeed,muttered something about having no fire; but his companionrepeating his request in a peremptory manner, he unlocked thedoor, and requested him to close it softly, while he got a light.

'It's as dark as the grave,' said the man, groping forward a fewsteps. 'Make haste!'

'Shut the door,' whispered Fagin from the end of the passage. Ashe spoke, it closed with a loud noise.

'That wasn't my doing,' said the other man, feeling his way. 'Thewind blew it to, or it shut of its own accord: one or the other.Look sharp with the light, or I shall knock my brains out againstsomething in this confounded hole.'

Fagin stealthily descended the kitchen stairs. After a shortabsence, he returned with a lighted candle, and the intelligencethat Toby Crackit was asleep in the back room below, and that theboys were in the front one. Beckoning the man to follow him, heled the way upstairs.

'We can say the few words we've got to say in here, my dear,'said the Jew, throwing open a door on the first floor; 'and asthere are holes in the shutters, and we never show lights to ourneighbours, we'll set the candle on the stairs. There!'

With those words, the Jew, stooping down, placed the candle on anupper flight of stairs, exactly opposite to the room door. Thisdone, he led the way into the apartment; which was destitute ofall movables save a broken arm-chair, and an old couch or sofawithout covering, which stood behind the door. Upon this pieceof furniture, the stranger sat himself with the air of a wearyman; and the Jew, drawing up the arm-chair opposite, they satface to face. It was not quite dark; the door was partiallyopen; and the candle outside, threw a feeble reflection on theopposite wall.

They conversed for some time in whispers. Though nothing of theconversation was distinguishable beyond a few disjointed wordshere and there, a listener might easily have perceived that Faginappeared to be defending himself against some remarks of thestranger; and that the latter was in a state of considerableirritation. They might have been talking, thus, for a quarter ofan hour or more, when Monks--by which name the Jew had designatedthe strange man several times in the course of theircolloquy--said, raising his voice a little,

'I tell you again, it was badly planned. Why not have kept himhere among the rest, and made a sneaking, snivelling pickpocketof him at once?'

'Only hear him!' exclaimed the Jew, shrugging his shoulders.

'Why, do you mean to say you couldn't have done it, if you hadchosen?' demanded Monks, sternly. 'Haven't you done it, withother boys, scores of times? If you had had patience for atwelvemonth, at most, couldn't you have got him convicted, andsent safely out of the kingdom; perhaps for life?'

'Whose turn would that have served, my dear?' inquired the Jewhumbly.

'Mine,' replied Monks.

'But not mine,' said the Jew, submissively. 'He might havebecome of use to me. When there are two parties to a bargain, itis only reasonable that the interests of both should beconsulted; is it, my good friend?'

'What then?' demanded Monks.

'I saw it was not easy to train him to the business,' replied theJew; 'he was not like other boys in the same circumstances.'

'Curse him, no!' muttered the man, 'or he would have been athief, long ago.'

'I had no hold upon him to make him worse,' pursued the Jew,anxiously watching the countenance of his companion. 'His handwas not in. I had nothing to frighten him with; which we alwaysmust have in the beginning, or we labour in vain. What could Ido? Send him out with the Dodger and Charley? We had enough ofthat, at first, my dear; I trembled for us all.'

'_That_ was not my doing,' observed Monks.

'No, no, my dear!' renewed the Jew. 'And I don't quarrel with itnow; because, if it had never happened, you might never haveclapped eyes on the boy to notice him, and so led to thediscovery that it was him you were looking for. Well! I got himback for you by means of the girl; and then _she_ begins to favourhim.'

'Throttle the girl!' said Monks, impatiently.

'Why, we can't afford to do that just now, my dear,' replied theJew, smiling; 'and, besides, that sort of thing is not in ourway; or, one of these days, I might be glad to have it done. Iknow what these girls are, Monks, well. As soon as the boybegins to harden, she'll care no more for him, than for a blockof wood. You want him made a thief. If he is alive, I can makehim one from this time; and, if--if--' said the Jew, drawingnearer to the other,--'it's not likely, mind,--but if the worstcomes to the worst, and he is dead--'

'It's no fault of mine if he is!' interposed the other man, witha look of terror, and clasping the Jew's arm with tremblinghands. 'Mind that. Fagin! I had no hand in it. Anything buthis death, I told you from the first. I won't shed blood; it'salways found out, and haunts a man besides. If they shot himdead, I was not the cause; do you hear me? Fire this infernalden! What's that?'

'What!' cried the Jew, grasping the coward round the body, withboth arms, as he sprung to his feet. 'Where?'

'Yonder! replied the man, glaring at the opposite wall. 'Theshadow! I saw the shadow of a woman, in a cloak and bonnet, passalong the wainscot like a breath!'

The Jew released his hold, and they rushed tumultuously from theroom. The candle, wasted by the draught, was standing where ithad been placed. It showed them only the empty staircase, andtheir own white faces. They listened intently: a profoundsilence reigned throughout the house.

'It's your fancy,' said the Jew, taking up the light and turningto his companion.

'I'll swear I saw it!' replied Monks, trembling. 'It was bendingforward when I saw it first; and when I spoke, it darted away.'

The Jew glanced contemptuously at the pale face of his associate,and, telling him he could follow, if he pleased, ascended thestairs. They looked into all the rooms; they were cold, bare,and empty. They descended into the passage, and thence into thecellars below. The green damp hung upon the low walls; thetracks of the snail and slug glistened in the light of thecandle; but all was still as death.

'What do you think now?' said the Jew, when they had regained thepassage. 'Besides ourselves, there's not a creature in the houseexcept Toby and the boys; and they're safe enough. See here!'

As a proof of the fact, the Jew drew forth two keys from hispocket; and explained, that when he first went downstairs, he hadlocked them in, to prevent any intrusion on the conference.

This accumulated testimony effectually staggered Mr. Monks. Hisprotestations had gradually become less and less vehement as theyproceeded in their search without making any discovery; and, now,he gave vent to several very grim laughs, and confessed it couldonly have been his excited imagination. He declined any renewalof the conversation, however, for that night: suddenlyremembering that it was past one o'clock. And so the amiablecouple parted.

CHAPTER XXVII

ATONES FOR THE UNPOLITENESS OF A FORMER CHAPTER; WHICH DESERTED ALADY, MOST UNCEREMONIOUSLY

As it would be, by no means, seemly in a humble author to keep somighty a personage as a beadle waiting, with his back to thefire, and the skirts of his coat gathered up under his arms,until such time as it might suit his pleasure to relieve him; andas it would still less become his station, or his gallantry toinvolve in the same neglect a lady on whom that beadle had lookedwith an eye of tenderness and affection, and in whose ear he hadwhispered sweet words, which, coming from such a quarter, mightwell thrill the bosom of maid or matron of whatsoever degree; thehistorian whose pen traces these words--trusting that he knowshis place, and that he entertains a becoming reverence for thoseupon earth to whom high and important authority isdelegated--hastens to pay them that respect which their positiondemands, and to treat them with all that duteous ceremony whichtheir exalted rank, and (by consequence) great virtues,imperatively claim at his hands. Towards this end, indeed, hehad purposed to introduce, in this place, a dissertation touchingthe divine right of beadles, and elucidative of the position,that a beadle can do no wrong: which could not fail to have beenboth pleasurable and profitable to the right-minded reader butwhich he is unfortunately compelled, by want of time and space,to postpone to some more convenient and fitting opportunity; onthe arrival of which, he will be prepared to show, that a beadleproperly constituted: that is to say, a parochial beadle,attached to a parochail workhouse, and attending in his officialcapacity the parochial church: is, in right and virtue of hisoffice, possessed of all the excellences and best qualities ofhumanity; and that to none of those excellences, can merecompanies' beadles, or court-of-law beadles, or evenchapel-of-ease beadles (save the last, and they in a very lowlyand inferior degree), lay the remotest sustainable claim.

Mr. Bumble had re-counted the teaspoons, re-weighed thesugar-tongs, made a closer inspection of the milk-pot, andascertained to a nicety the exact condition of the furniture,down to the very horse-hair seats of the chairs; and had repeatedeach process full half a dozen times; before he began to thinkthat it was time for Mrs. Corney to return. Thinking begetsthinking; as there were no sounds of Mrs. Corney's approach, itoccured to Mr. Bumble that it would be an innocent and virtuousway of spending the time, if he were further to allay hiscuriousity by a cursory glance at the interior of Mrs. Corney'schest of drawers.

Having listened at the keyhole, to assure himself that nobody wasapproaching the chamber, Mr. Bumble, beginning at the bottom,proceeded to make himself acquainted with the contents of thethree long drawers: which, being filled with various garments ofgood fashion and texture, carefully preserved between two layersof old newspapers, speckled with dried lavender: seemed to yieldhim exceeding satisfaction. Arriving, in course of time, at theright-hand corner drawer (in which was the key), and beholdingtherein a small padlocked box, which, being shaken, gave forth apleasant sound, as of the chinking of coin, Mr. Bumble returnedwith a stately walk to the fireplace; and, resuming his oldattitude, said, with a grave and determined air, 'I'll do it!'He followed up this remarkable declaration, by shaking his headin a waggish manner for ten minutes, as though he wereremonstrating with himself for being such a pleasant dog; andthen, he took a view of his legs in profile, with much seemingpleasure and interest.

He was still placidly engaged in this latter survey, when Mrs.Corney, hurrying into the room, threw herself, in a breathlessstate, on a chair by the fireside, and covering her eyes with onehand, placed the other over her heart, and gasped for breath.

'Mrs. Corney,' said Mr. Bumble, stooping over the matron, 'whatis this, ma'am? Has anything happened, ma'am? Pray answer me:I'm on--on--' Mr. Bumble, in his alarm, could not immediatelythink of the word 'tenterhooks,' so he said 'broken bottles.'

'Then take something, ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble soothingly. 'Alittle of the wine?'

'Not for the world!' replied Mrs. Corney. 'I couldn't,--oh! Thetop shelf in the right-hand corner--oh!' Uttering these words,the good lady pointed, distractedly, to the cupboard, andunderwent a convulsion from internal spasms. Mr. Bumble rushedto the closet; and, snatching a pint green-glass bottle from theshelf thus incoherently indicated, filled a tea-cup with itscontents, and held it to the lady's lips.

'We are all weak creeturs,' said Mrs. Corney, laying down ageneral principle.

'So we are,' said the beadle.

Nothing was said on either side, for a minute or two afterwards.By the expiration of that time, Mr. Bumble had illustrated theposition by removing his left arm from the back of Mrs. Corney'schair, where it had previously rested, to Mrs. Corney'sapron-string, round which it gradually became entwined.

'We are all weak creeturs,' said Mr. Bumble.

Mrs. Corney sighed.

'Don't sigh, Mrs. Corney,' said Mr. Bumble.

'I can't help it,' said Mrs. Corney. And she sighed again.

'This is a very comfortable room, ma'am,' said Mr. Bumble lookinground. 'Another room, and this, ma'am, would be a completething.'

Mrs. Corney drooped her head, when the beadle said this; thebeadle drooped his, to get a view of Mrs. Corney's face. Mrs.Corney, with great propriety, turned her head away, and releasedher hand to get at her pocket-handkerchief; but insensiblyreplaced it in that of Mr. Bumble.

'He can't live a week, the doctor says,' pursued Mr. Bumble. 'Heis the master of this establishment; his death will cause awacancy; that wacancy must be filled up. Oh, Mrs. Corney, what aprospect this opens! What a opportunity for a jining of heartsand housekeepings!'

'One more,' pursued the beadle; 'compose your darling feelingsfor only one more. When is it to come off?'

Mrs. Corney twice essayed to speak: and twice failed. At lengthsummoning up courage, she threw her arms around Mr. Bumble'sneck, and said, it might be as soon as ever he pleased, and thathe was 'a irresistible duck.'

Matters being thus amicably and satisfactorily arranged, thecontract was solemnly ratified in another teacupful of thepeppermint mixture; which was rendered the more necessary, by theflutter and agitation of the lady's spirits. While it was beingdisposed of, she acquainted Mr. Bumble with the old woman'sdecease.

'Very good,' said that gentleman, sipping his peppermint; 'I'llcall at Sowerberry's as I go home, and tell him to send to-morrowmorning. Was it that as frightened you, love?'

'If I thought it was,' continued Mr. Bumble; 'if I thought as anyone of 'em had dared to lift his wulgar eyes to that lovelycountenance--'

'They wouldn't have dared to do it, love,' responded the lady.

'They had better not!' said Mr. Bumble, clenching his fist. 'Letme see any man, porochial or extra-porochial, as would presume todo it; and I can tell him that he wouldn't do it a second time!'

Unembellished by any violence of gesticulation, this might haveseemed no very high compliment to the lady's charms; but, as Mr.Bumble accompanied the threat with many warlike gestures, she wasmuch touched with this proof of his devotion, and protested, withgreat admiration, that he was indeed a dove.

The dove then turned up his coat-collar, and put on his cockedhat; and, having exchanged a long and affectionate embrace withhis future partner, once again braved the cold wind of the night:merely pausing, for a few minutes, in the male paupers' ward, toabuse them a little, with the view of satisfying himself that hecould fill the office of workhouse-master with needful acerbity.Assured of his qualifications, Mr. Bumble left the building witha light heart, and bright visions of his future promotion: whichserved to occupy his mind until he reached the shop of theundertaker.

Now, Mr. and Mrs. Sowerberry having gone out to tea and supper:and Noah Claypole not being at any time disposed to take uponhimself a greater amount of physical exertion than is necessaryto a convenient performance of the two functions of eating anddrinking, the shop was not closed, although it was past the usualhour of shutting-up. Mr. Bumble tapped with his cane on thecounter several times; but, attracting no attention, andbeholding a light shining through the glass-window of the littleparlour at the back of the shop, he made bold to peep in and seewhat was going forward; and when he saw what was going forward,he was not a little surprised.

The cloth was laid for supper; the table was covered with breadand butter, plates and glasses; a porter-pot and a wine-bottle.At the upper end of the table, Mr. Noah Claypole lollednegligently in an easy-chair, with his legs thrown over one ofthe arms: an open clasp-knife in one hand, and a mass of butteredbread in the other. Close beside him stood Charlotte, openingoysters from a barrel: which Mr. Claypole condescended toswallow, with remarkable avidity. A more than ordinary rednessin the region of the young gentleman's nose, and a kind of fixedwink in his right eye, denoted that he was in a slight degreeintoxicated; these symptoms were confirmed by the intense relishwith which he took his oysters, for which nothing but a strongappreciation of their cooling properties, in cases of internalfever, could have sufficiently accounted.

Charlotte uttered a scream, and hid her face in her apron. Mr.Claypole, without making any further change in his position thansuffering his legs to reach the ground, gazed at the beadle indrunken terror.

'Say it again, you wile, owdacious fellow!' said Mr. Bumble. 'Howdare you mention such a thing, sir? And how dare you encouragehim, you insolent minx? Kiss her!' exclaimed Mr. Bumble, instrong indignation. 'Faugh!'

'I didn't mean to do it!' said Noah, blubbering. 'She's alwaysa-kissing of me, whether I like it, or not.'

'Silence!' cried Mr. Bumble, sternly. 'Take yourself downstairs,ma'am. Noah, you shut up the shop; say another word till yourmaster comes home, at your peril; and, when he does come home,tell him that Mr. Bumble said he was to send a old woman's shellafter breakfast to-morrow morning. Do you hear sir? Kissing!'cried Mr. Bumble, holding up his hands. 'The sin and wickednessof the lower orders in this porochial district is frightful! IfParliament don't take their abominable courses underconsideration, this country's ruined, and the character of thepeasantry gone for ever!' With these words, the beadle strode,with a lofty and gloomy air, from the undertaker's premises.

And now that we have accompanied him so far on his road home, andhave made all necessary preparations for the old woman's funeral,let us set on foot a few inquires after young Oliver Twist, andascertain whether he be still lying in the ditch where TobyCrackit left him.

CHAPTER XXVIII

LOOKS AFTER OLIVER, AND PROCEEDS WITH HIS ADVENTURES

'Wolves tear your throats!' muttered Sikes, grinding his teeth.'I wish I was among some of you; you'd howl the hoarser for it.'

As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most desperateferocity that his desperate nature was capable of, he rested thebody of the wounded boy across his bended knee; and turned hishead, for an instant, to look back at his pursuers.

There was little to be made out, in the mist and darkness; butthe loud shouting of men vibrated through the air, and thebarking of the neighbouring dogs, roused by the sound of thealarm bell, resounded in every direction.

'Stop, you white-livered hound!' cried the robber, shouting afterToby Crackit, who, making the best use of his long legs, wasalready ahead. 'Stop!'

The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead stand-still.For he was not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range ofpistol-shot; and Sikes was in no mood to be played with.

Toby made a show of returning; but ventured, in a low voice,broken for want of breath, to intimate considerable reluctance ashe came slowly along.

'Quicker!' cried Sikes, laying the boy in a dry ditch at hisfeet, and drawing a pistol from his pocket. 'Don't play bootywith me.'

At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again lookinground, could discern that the men who had given chase werealready climbing the gate of the field in which he stood; andthat a couple of dogs were some paces in advance of them.

'It's all up, Bill!' cried Toby; 'drop the kid, and show 'em yourheels.' With this parting advice, Mr. Crackit, preferring thechance of being shot by his friend, to the certainty of beingtaken by his enemies, fairly turned tail, and darted off at fullspeed. Sikes clenched his teeth; took one look around; threwover the prostrate form of Oliver, the cape in which he had beenhurriedly muffled; ran along the front of the hedge, as if todistract the attention of those behind, from the spot where theboy lay; paused, for a second, before another hedge which met itat right angles; and whirling his pistol high into the air,cleared it at a bound, and was gone.

The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed to have noparticular relish for the sport in which they were engaged,readily answered to the command. Three men, who had by this timeadvanced some distance into the field, stopped to take counseltogether.

'My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my _orders_, is,' said thefattest man of the party, 'that we 'mediately go home again.'

'I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles,'said a shorter man; who was by no means of a slim figure, and whowas very pale in the face, and very polite: as frightened menfrequently are.

'I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen,' said thethird, who had called the dogs back, 'Mr. Giles ought to know.'

'Certainly,' replied the shorter man; 'and whatever Mr. Gilessays, it isn't our place to contradict him. No, no, I know mysitiwation! Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation.' To tell thetruth, the little man _did_ seem to know his situation, and to knowperfectly well that it was by no means a desirable one; for histeeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

'You are afraid, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

'I an't,' said Brittles.

'You are,' said Giles.

'You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles,' said Brittles.

'You're a lie, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt; and Mr.Giles's taunt had arisen from his indignation at having theresponsibility of going home again, imposed upon himself undercover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to aclose, most philosophically.

'I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen,' said he, 'we're allafraid.'

'Speak for yourself, sir,' said Mr. Giles, who was the palest ofthe party.

'So I do,' replied the man. 'It's natural and proper to beafraid, under such circumstances. I am.'

'So am I,' said Brittles; 'only there's no call to tell a man heis, so bounceably.'

These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that_he_ was afraid; upon which, they all three faced about, and ranback again with the completest unanimity, until Mr. Giles (whohad the shortest wind of the party, as was encumbered with apitchfork) most handsomely insisted on stopping, to make anapology for his hastiness of speech.

'But it's wonderful,' said Mr. Giles, when he had explained,'what a man will do, when his blood is up. I should havecommitted murder--I know I should--if we'd caught one of themrascals.'

As the other two were impressed with a similar presentiment; andas their blood, like his, had all gone down again; somespeculation ensued upon the cause of this sudden change in theirtemperament.

'You may depend upon it,' said Giles, 'that that gate stopped theflow of the excitement. I felt all mine suddenly going away, asI was climbing over it.'

By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been visited withthe same unpleasant sensation at that precise moment. It wasquite obvious, therefore, that it was the gate; especially asthere was no doubt regarding the time at which the change hadtaken place, because all three remembered that they had come insight of the robbers at the instant of its occurance.

This dialogue was held between the two men who had surprised theburglars, and a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in anouthouse, and who had been roused, together with his two mongrelcurs, to join in the pursuit. Mr. Giles acted in the doublecapacity of butler and steward to the old lady of the mansion;Brittles was a lad of all-work: who, having entered her service amere child, was treated as a promising young boy still, though hewas something past thirty.

Encouraging each other with such converse as this; but, keepingvery close together, notwithstanding, and looking apprehensivelyround, whenever a fresh gust rattled through the boughs; thethree men hurried back to a tree, behind which they had lefttheir lantern, lest its light should inform the thieves in whatdirection to fire. Catching up the light, they made the best oftheir way home, at a good round trot; and long after their duskyforms had ceased to be discernible, the light might have beenseen twinkling and dancing in the distance, like some exhalationof the damp and gloomy atmosphere through which it was swiftlyborne.

The air grew colder, as day came slowly on; and the mist rolledalong the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet;the pathways, and low places, were all mire and water; the dampbreath of an unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollowmoaning. Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spotwhere Sikes had left him.

Morning drew on apace. The air become more sharp and piercing,as its first dull hue--the death of night, rather than the birthof day--glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which hadlooked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and moredefined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. Therain came down, thick and fast, and pattered noisily among theleafless bushes. But, Oliver felt it not, as it beat againsthim; for he still lay stretched, helpless and unconscious, on hisbed of clay.

At length, a low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed;and uttering it, the boy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged ina shawl, hung heavy and useless at his side; the bandage wassaturated with blood. He was so weak, that he could scarcelyraise himself into a sitting posture; when he had done so, helooked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. Tremblingin every joint, from cold and exhaustion, he made an effort tostand upright; but, shuddering from head to foot, fell prostrateon the ground.

After a short return of the stupor in which he had been so longplunged, Oliver: urged by a creeping sickness at his heart,which seemed to warn him that if he lay there, he must surelydie: got upon his feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy,and he staggered to and fro like a drunken man. But he kept up,nevertheless, and, with his head drooping languidly on hisbreast, went stumbling onward, he knew not whither.

And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding onhis mind. He seemed to be still walking between Sikes andCrackit, who were angrily disputing--for the very words theysaid, sounded in his ears; and when he caught his own attention,as it were, by making some violent effort to save himself fromfalling, he found that he was talking to them. Then, he was alonewith Sikes, plodding on as on the previous day; and as shadowypeople passed them, he felt the robber's grasp upon his wrist.Suddenly, he started back at the report of firearms; there roseinto the air, loud cries and shouts; lights gleamed before hiseyes; all was noise and tumult, as some unseen hand bore himhurriedly away. Through all these rapid visions, there ran anundefined, uneasy consciousness of pain, which wearied and tormentedhim incessantly.

Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, between thebars of gates, or through hedge-gaps as they came in his way,until he reached a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily,that it roused him.

He looked about, and saw that at no great distance there was ahouse, which perhaps he could reach. Pitying his condition, theymight have compassion on him; and if they did not, it would bebetter, he thought, to die near human beings, than in the lonelyopen fields. He summoned up all his strength for one last trial,and bent his faltering steps towards it.

As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling come over him that hehad seen it before. He remembered nothing of its details; butthe shape and aspect of the building seemed familiar to him.

That garden wall! On the grass inside, he had fallen on hisknees last night, and prayed the two men's mercy. It was thevery house they had attempted to rob.

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised the place,that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his wound, andthought only of flight. Flight! He could scarcely stand: andif he were in full possession of all the best powers of hisslight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He pushedagainst the garden-gate; it was unlocked, and swung open on itshinges. He tottered across the lawn; climbed the steps; knockedfaintly at the door; and, his whole strength failing him, sunkdown against one of the pillars of the little portico.

It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and thetinker, were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues andterrors of the night, with tea and sundries, in the kitchen. Notthat it was Mr. Giles's habit to admit to too great familiaritythe humbler servants: towards whom it was rather his wont todeport himself with a lofty affability, which, while itgratified, could not fail to remind them of his superior positionin society. But, death, fires, and burglary, make all menequals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched out before thekitchen fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while, withhis right, he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account ofthe robbery, to which his bearers (but especially the cook andhousemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathlessinterest.

'It was about half-past two,' said Mr. Giles, 'or I wouldn'tswear that it mightn't have been a little nearer three, when Iwoke up, and, turning round in my bed, as it might be so, (hereMr. Giles turned round in his chair, and pulled the corner of thetable-cloth over him to imitate bed-clothes,) I fancied I heerd anoise.'

At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and askedthe housemaid to shut the door: who asked Brittles, who asked thetinker, who pretended not to hear.

'--Heerd a noise,' continued Mr. Giles. 'I says, at first, "Thisis illusion"; and was composing myself off to sleep, when I heerdthe noise again, distinct.'

'What sort of a noise?' asked the cook.

'A kind of a busting noise,' replied Mr. Giles, looking roundhim.

'More like the noise of powdering a iron bar on a nutmeg-grater,'suggested Brittles.

'It was, when _you_ heerd it, sir,' rejoined Mr. Giles; 'but, atthis time, it had a busting sound. I turned down the clothes';continued Giles, rolling back the table-cloth, 'sat up in bed;and listened.'